


In That Case, I'll Have a Rum and Coca-Cola

by flippyspoon



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 90's AU, Fluff, Harringroveweekoflove, M/M, Romance, Steve takes his rightful place as a drifting stoner who still cares AU, loveweekifao, roommates au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 04:57:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17739443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flippyspoon/pseuds/flippyspoon
Summary: Billy Hargrove really hates his roommate.





	In That Case, I'll Have a Rum and Coca-Cola

**Author's Note:**

> I mean there to be more banging! Sorry!

Billy’s roommate was partying again and the thing that bothered him most about that was that it bothered him at all. 

Billy was in law school. Billy was planning on actually graduating in the hopes that several years of ass-busting work, sweat, and blood would not go to waste. There was also the fact of his father who, when Billy was forced to see him, liked to say that the very idea of Billy Hargrove, attorney at law, was the most hilarious joke the universe could probably play and that he’d never pass the bar and that he’d turned out to be a real waste of space and etc.

He was on track. He was doing well. 

The only thing that could possibly hold Billy back, he thought, was his fucking roommate.

Steve Harrington had put out the ad a year ago and from what Billy could tell he was the first one to answer and Steve had just taken him in on first sight without checking his references or anything like Billy’s last roommate had. 

Steve was a formerly preppy rich kid from the sticks. Or anyway, he was no longer preppy but he was definitely still rich. Why he was living in Chicago, Billy had not the faintest idea. He could’ve been living anywhere. If Billy wasn’t in school, he would’ve been back in California or maybe New York. Chicago was nice and all but it didn’t compare to L.A. to Billy’s mind, plus the winters were ridiculous. 

Steve had a trust fund and seemed to just be drifting along on his parent’s money with no plan although he alluded to a time when his parents would demand he make _something_ of himself. Right now the something was working at the Tower Records over on Wabash, growing his hair to his shoulders, and making good friends with his bong. 

Billy slammed their front door behind him and dropped his backpack on the floor, grimacing in Steve’s general direction. The place was a mess. It had been a mess when he’d left but Steve had promised to tidy up. 

To his credit, the coffee table was slightly less of a disaster; it was missing one pizza box and some empty soda cans and was now only covered in candy wrappers, Steve’s bong, and several issues of _Spin_.

Steve was dancing with his eyes closed. Pulp was blaring and Steve, who must’ve heard Billy slam the door, was singing along as he jumped up on down.

“Let’s all meet up in the year 2000! Won’t it be strange when we’re all fully groooown!” Steve was crooning Pulp. He wasn’t a bad singer by any means. He would’ve sounded better if he wasn’t out of breath from jumping up and down.

Steve was wearing ripped jeans and no shirt. He was sweaty. He also looked delicious. He was also, by all accounts, completely straight.

Billy could not have imagined a worse roommate. 

Billy felt a rush of anger at Steve for being rich, hot, and straight. He stomped over to the stereo and turned off the music.

Steve stopped jumping up and down and spun to face him, chest heaving. “Hey, man!” He did not seem particularly upset. In fact, he seemed happy to see Billy. 

Steve was always happy to see Billy. They hung out together all the time, or at least when Billy wasn’t too busy with school. Steve made Billy laugh. Steve was often the brightest spot of Billy’s day, especially when he was sprawled on the couch without a shirt, relaxed and beaming, and blissed out on his high. Every once in a while, Steve’s hand would sneak underneath the waistband of his jeans while Billy was sitting right there. Steve’s gaze would slide over to him. Nothing beyond that had ever happened. Steve talked about girlfriends and asked Billy the kinds of annoying questions that straight boys always asked him. 

So Billy assumed it was just a weird thing he did when he was high.

God, how Billy hated him.

“Hey! How was your day!” Steve didn’t say it casually. He ran a hand through his luxurious head of hair and looked right at Billy, smiling brightly. Like he was interested. 

He was always pulling that kind of shit. 

“You hungry? I was gonna make mac and cheese. I’ve _perfected_ it. Sorry, I didn’t clean up yet, I had to cover Roonie at Tower. Hang on…”

Steve turned into a blur of activity. At some point the couch was cleared of laundry and Billy collapsed on it and was immediately handed a can of Coke. Trash and take-out boxes and the general gross detritus of two guys living on their own in their early twenties disappeared.

Now Steve was cooking and singing to himself and Billy imagined coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around that bare chest. He ran a hand through his own hair that was now shorter than Steve’s though not by much He’d used to keep his hair _long_ , long enough to really annoy his father. But he was more loyal to style it turned out and now it was a shaggy, curly blonde just now passing the nape of his neck. Somebody in his class had looked at him and said Patrick Swayze. He worked hard to cultivate that comparison, truth be told. Long enough for rock and roll, he liked to call it. And just a shade too long for a job interview. He still wore his favorite black leather jacket though. He still barely buttoned his shirts at all. He still had the earring. Law school be damned.

Billy settled back in their plush couch that Steve had paid for and watched him make mac and cheese. 

“You didn’t say how your day was!” Steve said, and glanced over the counter down at Billy. “Didn’t you have Family Law today?” His expression turned serious, sympathetic. “I know you hate that one.” He poured cream into a saucepan.

“I do hate that one,” Billy muttered. They were studying cases that involved things like abuse and Child Services and Billy did not care to touch that shit at all.

“You wanna talk about it?” Steve said, because Steve was _caring_ and shit. He’d didn’t used to be that way. He’d told Billy he used to be pretty selfish and he probably still was in some ways and then he’d mumbled something about monsters and Billy had put all that shit down to Steve being high. The point was, Steve was _sensitive_ and _sweet_ and it was more than Billy could stand. “No, you don’t want to talk about it,” Steve said quietly, before Billy could open his mouth and say that, no he didn’t want to talk about it. 

Billy sipped his Coke. He knew down to the marrow of his bones, that moving in with Steve was probably the best thing that had ever happened to him in his life next to his college acceptances except that he’d worked really hard for that shit. Steve had been dumb luck.

He hated Steve so much. He was so in love with Steve he thought his heart would spontaneously combust at some point. Fuck Steve.

He heard the oven door slam shut and then Steve was sitting on the coffee table across from him. He rested his wrists on his knees, leaning forward to talk to Billy. His hair was sticking up, making a big swoopy, sexy wave that fell over to one side. He looked like a surfer except he was too pale to be a surfer.

“Hey,” Steve said, and tapped Billy’s knee. “You want to go see _Seven_ tomorrow night? If you’re not busy?”

“Gotta date,” Billy said, draining the rest of his Coke.

Steve blinked at him and Billy didn’t need to be observant about people (which he was) to see the way that Steve looked utterly let down. His huge, expressive eyes hid nothing.

“Oh?” Steve’s voice went up several octaves. “With who?”

Steve always got a little worked up whenever Billy went on a date and Billy knew it was because deep down, Steve did _not_ approve of the gay thing. As much as he wanted to look like Mr. Cool, he was still from a small town with rich, conservative parents and you didn’t just let go of all that crap.

“I mean nobody you know,” Billy said, twirling a lock of hair around his finger.

“Yeah, obviously,” Steve said, suddenly annoyed, as he stood again. “Just making conversation.” Steve went to his room and came back wearing a t-shirt and Billy mourned the loss of all that skin on display.

Billy stewed. Steve was both adorable and sexy and infuriating and practically flaunted it yet he was completely off limits and he was always a jerk about Billy’s dates. They never talked about it. It was just something Billy stewed about. He tried not to think about how much he didn’t want to talk about that because as much as he hated Steve, he didn’t want to _hate_ Steve. 

But now he blurted out, “You hate it when I have a date.”

He was too busy to go out as much as he wanted. He worked part-time in the admin office at school to cover what his loans couldn’t. If he went out as much as he’d like to, Steve would be eternally upset. 

“I wouldn’t call em’ dates,” Steve grumbled. “That implies they’re gonna be around more than a night.”

“That’s big talk from you, Mr. Commitment,” Billy cracked. 

Steve was always bringing girls around. They seemed to mildly entertain him but none of them ever lasted. The girl he was closest to was the The Ex, Nancy. But Nancy was at NYU and Billy had never met her. The break-up had sounded ugly to Billy but they were on friendly terms, of course, because this was Steve.

“You just have bad taste is all,” Steve was saying, puttering around in the kitchen. Billy could tell just by listening, he wasn’t actually doing anything. Eventually he walked back out with a dish towel thrown over his shoulder and stood in front of Billy with his arms crossed. “The guys you date are always dicks.”

“You upset that they’re dicks or that they _have_ dicks,” Billy sneered.

“I don’t care that you’re gay,” Steve said in a longsuffering tone. “I never have.”

“Sure, you just _happen_ to hate all the guys I go out with.”

Steve smiled wryly. He appeared completely exasperated which Billy found irritating. He was the one being unfair. “Yes,” Steve said. “Exactly.”

Sometimes, in his most wildly optimistic moments (which were rare), Billy wondered if Steve was slightly less straight then he appeared and maybe had a thing for him. Except that Billy had not been shy with the innuendos and the meaningless flirting and Steve had never responded to any of that so eventually Billy just got frustrated and gave it up, because eventually Steve stopped even getting flustered so what was the point? And if he thought about Steve while banging other guys, well that was his business.

Billy was confused at the direction of the conversation and Steve declared the mac and cheese done. Steve served dinner. He made Billy get up and sit at their dinky table, clearing off a pile of bills and magazines. Somehow the conversation turned and all the awkwardness went away. Steve told Billy about annoying customers and Billy told Steve about his annoying professors. When they were done eating, they camped out on the couch and Steve loaded up the bong, a nice big green glass bitch, and insisted on music again. He turned Pulp back on.

“My dad called me yesterday,” Steve reported, before taking a pull. 

“What?” Billy sat up, frowning. It was out of character for Steve not to be complaining about a phone-call from his dad immediately after hanging up. “You didn’t say anything.”

Steve held the smoke and said, “Didn’t go well,” without breathing. He passed the bong to Billy.

“What now?”

Steve exhaled a plume of smoke and said, “I told him what I want to do. He thinks it’s stupid. Which I knew he would. I don’t know. I’ve been living off his money-”

“Not really though.” Billy took a pull. He hassled Steve about his money all the time and he brooded about it too. Steve could be going to school, could be pursuing something worthwhile. Instead he supervervised at a Tower. A little voice asked him what was wrong with supervising at a Tower and why was Billy sounding like both of their stupid dads and at that point Billy usually looked for some vodka to make all those thoughts go away.  Billy exhaled and said, “You mostly live off Tower.”

The trust fund money Steve usually used for shit he didn’t need like the fancy couch and the bread machine that Billy had never seen him use once...and the suede jacket he’d bought Billy for his birthday that made Billy choke up once he was alone and _only_ because he was a little drunk. More than anything the trust fund was security. Steve never had to worry, there was always the safety net of daddy’s money.

“I’d need his money for school,” Steve mumbled. He held the bong in his lap, frowning at it, not taking a pull.

Steve had never once mentioned wanting to go to school from what Billy could recall. And now his eyebrows shot up. “School? You goin’ to college?”

Steve’s lips twitched. He seemed to keep changing his mind about what to say and then he said, “I don’t want to talk about it,” and took another pull.

“Why?” Billy was feeling pretty good. He had a notoriously low tolerance for weed, which made him much mellow than he ever got sober, and now he moved closer to Steve and nudged his shoulder. “C’mon. What’s the plan? I’m not your old man. You can tell me.”

“You’ll laugh.” Steve rubbed his forehead. Weed usually made him happy and pliant (and horny) and now he just looked miserable.

“I’m not gonna laugh,” Billy said softly. He might want to laugh, he considered. Steve came up with goofy plans for what he wanted to do sometimes and they always fell to the wayside. But he looked serious now, not like when he’d gotten blitzed and insisted it was his life’s dream to be a zookeeper and work with the meerkats. “You can tell me, man.”

Steve licked his lips and said, “I’ve always...I actually really want to be a nurse. I want to go to nursing school.”

Billy blinked at Steve, whose parents--while jerks--would never actually cut him off and had been trying to convince him to take a cushy job at his father’s company where he would be paid a nice wage to do almost literally nothing except keep his hair short and smile and not go to work high.  But Steve wanted to be a nurse. Nurses...took care of people. That’s all they did. That...made a lot of sense for Steve who went to DefCon 1 whenever Billy got a cold and alluded to maybe having saved lots of people’s lives when he was in high school though Billy still didn’t know the full story.

“I think that’d be great, man,” Billy said, his mouth slowly forming a grin. He was being especially cheery because he was high and because Steve was giving him the big eyes and Steve was the best friend Billy had ever had even if Billy hated him. “You’d be an awesome nurse.”

Steve brightened a little and then looked utterly relieved. He took a pull from the bong. “Yeah well, my dad says it’s for chicks. Said guys are doctors. All that shit.”

“Yeah well, your dad also probably thinks gay guys are garbage like my dad,” Billy snarked. “Because he doesn’t know good a big dick in the ass feels.”

Steve choked, coughing on his smoke, and Billy laughed and slapped his back. “Jesus, “ Steve said, and turned red. 

Billy smiled to himself. Alright, maybe that last crack had been a weak attempt to get the idea in Steve’s head. Again.

“Ya know,” Steve said, “I was dumb enough to think he’d like the idea? Like it’s a responsible job and everything, being a nurse? Can’t get rich off it though. If I’d said surgeon, he’d be popping champagne.” Steve coughed again and shook his head. “Nah,that’s not true. If I’d said surgeon, he would’ve laughed his ass off. Whatever. Screw em’.”

“Yeah exactly,” Billy said. “Screw em’. How long you been thinking about this nurse thing?”

“Forever,” Steve said shrugging. “Just wasn’t looking forward to people laughing at me. Kinda thought you’d laugh at me. Ask me how short my skirt will be or whatever.”

He would’ve, Billy thought. Normally he would be teasing the shit out of Steve because sometimes he teased, not realizing at first when something would actually bother Steve until those big eyes got all sad. So now he was glad he’d been high when Steve had told him. “Well, how short will it be?” Billy said, but smiled in the way that meant affection. “Will you take my temperature?” He leaned toward Steve, leering. “Anally?”

Steve blurt laughed at that and his eyes were bright. “Dick.”

They sat back on the couch, comfortable in their high, shoulders pressed up against each other as they listened to Pulp. Billy slipped into a kind of trance where all he could hear was the sound of Steve’s breath next to him and the bass of the music.

Billy should be studying, he thought. Though he’d just come from studying at the library before coming back home. He’d intended to stay longer but he’d missed Steve, who he definitely hated. He had a paper due in four days-

* * *

“You know,” Steve’s voice said from far away. “I never said I was straight.”

Steve said this an hour later while they were still vedged out. Billy was sipping a Snapple (which he pretended to hate but Steve blessedly kept buying them). Now he was the one who choked and Steve slapped his back.

“What?” Billy said, voice cracking all over the place.

“It’s just, you’ve always assumed it,” Steve said. “And alright, like I let you. But I never _said_ I was straight-”

“You’re so full of shit!” Billy said. His voice sounded far too squeaky in his ears. “You’ve brought a million girls over here-”

“Oh what, like you’ve never heard of a bisexual?” Steve said. 

“Full of shit,” Billy muttered again, settling back into the plush cushions of the couch. “You don’t have to prove anything, Steve.”

“Not tryin’ to…” Steve sighed heavily.

* * *

 

A half hour later, they were sitting quietly, watching _The X-Files_ and not really paying attention (at least Billy wasn’t because this one seemed like filler) when Steve wordlessly unbuttoned his jeans, unzipped his fly, and stuck his hands down under his briefs.

Billy never usually commented on this but given where the conversation had already veered, he felt like he had to.

“Okay fine,” Billy said. “You don’t have a problem with gay people. You love the gays. I get it.”

Steve started to slowly stroke himself and Billy breathed in sharply, his cock swelling. He felt wires in his brain sparking and all his big talk about Steve’s big dick seemed to have left him. 

“Fine then, you’re not straight,” Billy mumbled. 

Everything in Billy felt exasperated that he didn’t already have his mouth on Steve’s dick except that he’d always feared that if something like _this_ happened between them, especially if Steve was trying to prove something, then Steve would flip out and Billy would never see him again.

“You gonna keep talking?” Steve said, his hand working faster on himself as he scooted closer to Billy, crushing his side. “Or are you gonna jerk off with me?”

_Fuck_.

Billy watched Steve’s hand working under his jeans. It was hot as hell but still a tease.

“Show me,” Billy whispered.

A smile flickered across Steve’s face and he pulled out a truly impressive hard-on and Billy made a noise like plaintive whine that would’ve embarrassed him if he’d been thinking clearly. He popped his own fly and shoved down his jeans and watch Steve’s face, the way his lips parted as he watched Billy take out his own hard dick. Steve’s breath was short and he lunged forward a little toward Billy and moaned, his hand stroking.

“God, you’re fuckin’ hot,” Billy breathed. They were almost sideways on the couch as they faced each other.

“I...I think about you,” Steve said, breathless. “When I jerk off. And...sometimes when I’m with girls...think about you.”

“Jesus,” Billy murmured, before Steve kissed him. 

They kissed sloppily and Steve moaned into his mouth as his hand worked furiously. He came half on Billy’s thigh, whimpering as his pleasure crested and he buried his mouth in Billy’s neck.  Billy was talking but he didn’t know what he was saying. He could’ve been saying anything. It was probably obscenities but there might have been an “I love you” in there, his brain was scrambled. He was so close and Steve was pressed up against him and _Steve’s cum was spattered on his jeans_. 

Steve climbed on top of Billy and pulled his hand away and began to stroke him, plunging his tongue into Billy’s mouth just like Billy had fantasized a thousand times. Steve’s jeans were down around his thighs and Billy gripped his ass, squeezing those luscious globes as he made out with Steve like they were both porn stars aiming for Oscars. Billy had always gotten compliments on his ass but Steve’s was better, in Billy’s opinion; a nice round bubble.

Now Steve was straddling him and jerking him off and giving him a hickey.

“Do you think about me too?” Steve whispered, tearing his teeth away from Billy’s neck long enough to speak.

“All I do is fucking think about you,” Billy said. Billy was so close he had to shut his eyes. Steve bit Billy’s bottom lip and then sucked on it just as his hand squeezed and turned _just_ right and Billy was coming, spurting on both of them. Steve kissed his mouth as he milked Billy’s cock. He finally slid off Billy, zipping up his pants, and then lay there, catching his breath, looking sated and depraved, his hair falling over his eyes as if it had deliberately fallen that way.

Billy, with no conceivable alternative, opted for casual. He sat up, tucking himself away but not bothering to zip up his fly, and grabbed his pack of cigarettes off the table, lighting himself a smoke.

“Holy shit, Harrington,” Billy said. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Did you mean that?” Steve was looking at him. “What you said?” Not just looking at him but _looking_ at him. Billy’s brain remained scrambled. He couldn’t read Steve’s expression. Sad? Freaked out? Horrified by Billy’s admission?

He couldn’t lose Steve. Losing Steve would be like...like...losing Steve.

“No, man, of course not,” Billy said, shrugging. “Just going with the moment. That was hot as hell though.”

“Right,” Steve said. Steve nodded, blinking. He seemed shifty. He looked away and then abruptly stood up and said, “I’m going to bed.” He stomped off to his room and slammed the door.

He’s freaked out, Billy thought. It made sense. Steve wanted to be the good guy. He also wanted to be “cool.” And in his current circles, having fucked around with a guy was cool and made him “open minded” and pulled him farther away from his white bread small town roots.

But now he was freaked out. Because he’d touched a dick.

_“_ Fuck,” Billy said, rubbing his eyes. “Goddammit.”

* * *

Billy didn’t see Steve in the morning,  all day, or that evening, which meant Steve had gone out and opted to stay out late. Billy had canceled his date because who the hell cared about getting laid when Steve was probably going through some kind of heterosexual crisis and was about to say that Billy needed to move out. Except that Steve would probably try to couch it to make it sound like that wasn’t _why_ and then throw money at him to make up for it. Billy threw himself into studying that evening, eyes constantly going to the clock. At two in the morning, he fell asleep on top of his covers, surrounded by binders and law books.

Billy had student loans on top of scholarships and despite an ability (though he liked to call it a talent) for getting plastered and rolling into class and maintaining As while also keeping himself buff as hell, he was _serious_ about school which meant he had never cut a class, not even one. But the next morning, Billy popped out of bed early, assuming he’d see Steve this time. But Steve was already gone. He wasn’t in bed or in the bathroom and Billy lollygagged, drinking coffee, hoping Steve had maybe just gone out to get donuts. But nothing. 

Billy went to his morning class and had no idea what was going on. When it was over, he took off. He would be useless at school anyway. He had to see Steve and clear this up. He had to make sure they were okay and make sure Steve knew Billy didn’t _expect_ anything and say that hey, straight guys did this shit all the time (though Billy thought that was bullshit) and it didn’t mean anything about Steve. He would whatever he could possibly come up with to make sure Steve wouldn’t go away or kick him out.

It took Billy seemingly forever to get to the Tower on Wabash. Steve always posted his schedule on the fridge but Billy couldn’t remember it now. If he didn’t find Steve at Tower, he thought he might have a heart attack. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so scared of something as now with the possibility of No Steve in his life, maybe the last time he’d really gotten into it with his old man.

He was riding the L and his head hurt. He hadn’t eaten all day. He reached into his backpack, hoping for a loose single to get a candybar or something if he could find a place and instead he found two granola bars wrapped in a note.

_Don’t forget to eat._

- _S_.

Billy had unpacked and repacked his backpack just the night before. That meant, as upset as Steve definitely was and no matter what his reasons were, he’d snuck food into Billy’s backpack because he knew Billy was always forgetting to eat. Billy stared at the note. It wasn’t the first time Steve had stuck food into Billy’s backpack. And he always left a note too. 

He was always taking care of Billy. Sometimes it was by sneaking his food into his backpack and sometimes it was perfecting mac and cheese and sometimes it was by...smiling.

Billy froze up on the train and the emptiness of a Steveless world felt like it was already swallowing him. 

He ate a granola bar just to stop the pounding in his head and ran at full speed from the L stop all the way to the Tower Records on Wabash and threw open the doors. The place was busy. Steve was always easy to find though because he was tall and his hair was usually doing something eye-catching. 

Billy spotted him at the back register and shoved his way through surly looking college kids still stubbornly clad in flannel. Steve saw him coming and his face fell. His hair seemed lanker than usual. He was wearing a Weezer t-shirt and his blue “I’m sad” hoodie.

“I have to talk to you,” Billy said over the heads of two teenager girls buying Alanis. “Now.”

“I’m busy,” Steve muttered, but he looked like maybe he wanted to talk. 

“Well, where’s that dickbag Roonie?” Billy said, just as the dickbag walked up. “Hey, cover Steve a minute.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Roonie said. Roonie had blonde hair to his waist and didn’t even appreciate it and for that, Billy hated him, and cast him an expression now that said so. “Fine. Jesus. Go take your ten, Steve.”

Steve pursed his lips and nodded towards the back and Billy scooted around shoppers down the long, narrow aisles of CDs to a stock room where Steve shut the door behind them, crossed his arms, and raised an eyebrow.

“What do you need?” Steve said.

Billy thought that was a loaded question.

_I need you not to leave me_

_I need you not to get rid of me._

_I need you to love me._

_I need you._

Instead he said, “I just wanted to make sure we’re cool,” Billy said. He was practically vibrating. “You’re acting weird.”

“Not acting _weird_ ,” Steve said, pushing an angry hand through his hair. “Cool? You want to know if we’re cool?”

“I knew you’d freak out,” Billy muttered, shaking his head.

“I’m not freaking out,” Steve said, staring down at his feet. 

“You’re not gonna like kick me out or something?”

“Why the hell would I kick you out?” Steve looked at him like he was crazy and it was one of those moments where Billy wanted to shake him. 

“Because!” Billy blurted. “Christ, Harrington. Don’t pretend. Because straight guys freak out when they touch a dick. They go into fuckin’ shock.”  
Steve shook his head at Billy. “You are so… After all that and you just…”

“Are we _okay_?” Billy said. “Are we cool then?”

“Why do you care?” Steve said, glowering at Billy. “I’m not saying you don’t, I’m saying I wanna know _why_. Why do you care if I kick you out? Would you care if I helped you find a new place? You can live anywhere. What do you need some annoying rich boy stoner living with you for? Tell me why. Tell me something real, Billy, like _once_.”

“‘Cause you’re my best friend,” Billy said quietly. And that was true and it wasn’t everything but it seemed to appease Steve because he had that puppy look he got when Billy did something sweet.

“I wouldn’t ever kick you out,” Steve said. He rubbed his chin and said, “Truth is, you’re gonna have such a good life, man. You’re gonna be so successful and brilliant and.. You’re gonna find some successful, smart, hot dude who can keep up with you. And you’ll be so happy and… I’ll be some guy you lived with once.” He shrugged, smiling a little, as if resigned to it. “But I’m gonna miss you. I’ll really, really gonna miss you when that happens. I just want you to know that.”

Steve’s eyes were shining like maybe he was holding back tears. Billy could not think of a single thing to say. Steve clapped him on the shoulder and said, “I gotta get back. See ya at home.”

Billy left Tower and watched Steve check out customers through the window. Steve didn’t look happy. Steve looked like somebody had killed his hamster, if he’d had a hamster. Billy couldn’t stop replaying the entire conversation out in his head as he took the L home. He saw Steve’s shining eyes. He ate the second granola bar and stared at the note Steve had left him. He thought of Steve kissing him like he was water in a desert and then climbing into his lap. He thought about making Steve laugh until his eyes did that sparkle thing they did when he was very happy. Sometimes when Steve’s eyes did that sparkle thing he’d sort of fall into Billy and press a hand to his chest.

They generally stayed out of each other’s rooms unless they were looking for each other’s clothes, which always got mixed up in the laundry. But when he got home, Billy cracked open a beer and went to Steve’s room. Steve’s room was a mess. His walls were plastered with band posters. The place stank of jizz and sweat, but so did Billy’s. There was a bulletin board on the wall by a photograph of Cobain and Billy went to inspect its pictures. There were some photos of Steve’s pals from Hawkins; those high school kids he was always talking about, his ex, his ex’s squeeze. But most of the pictures were of Billy and Steve together. They’d only been roommates for a year but you might’ve thought they’d been friends for a decade for the number of pictures pinned to Steve’s board. Some of them were just of Billy. Steve had a Polaroid camera and sometimes he got it in his head to take a bunch of pictures. Billy was always happy to pose but other times Steve just got him laughing. There was one picture of Billy looking off at someone else and grinning like he was the happiest guy in the world. Steve hadn’t taken that picture. Steve was the one Billy was smiling at. And Steve had put that picture smack dab in the center of the bulletin board.

Once Billy’d had to take a debate class the previous semester and take part in a staged debate with an audience and everything. It was just a few months after they’d moved in together. It had all felt very high school to Billy. But Steve had attended. He’d acted like he was going to a playoff game. Billy’s team had won and Steve had taken him out for shots. He had the program for the debate pinned to the board. He had the matchbook from the bar they went to that night pinned to the board. He had the movie tickets for everything they’d ever seen together pinned to the board. He had the concert tickets from when they saw Alice in Chains.

Billy took a step and looked at the entire bulletin board and felt like he was suddenly seeing the hidden image in a Magic Eye. 

“Oh,” he said.

Billy spent the rest of the day cleaning up the apartment and then he remembered that Steve’s favorite thing to have made for him was, inexplicably, hot dogs. Billy figured it reminded Steve of going to the fair or baseball games or something. Steve lost his goddamn mind when you presented him with a hot dog as if it was some amazing delicacy. He also loved Reese’s Pieces. So Billy walked to the store and bought hot dogs, buns, mustard, relish, chips, beer, and a bunch of Reese's Pieces. 

Billy was banking on Steve returning home immediately after work and if he didn’t, well, Billy would eat hot dogs alone like a chump.

* * *

“Whoa!” Steve looked like ecstatic. If he’d had a tail, he would’ve been wagging it. “Hot dogs!”

“Hold on! We gotta talk first! Then hot dogs!” Billy stood in front of the kitchen counter, blocking Steve who’d just walked in. He looked so casual in his stupid blue hoodie though it was not now apparently the “I’m sad” hoodie as Steve looked pretty happy in it now. “Take a seat, pretty boy. We’re having this out.”

Steve frowned and sat on one of the bar stools at their counter. “Having what out? You said we were cool.”

“We’re not cool!” Billy said, rounding on him, and getting in his face. “Nothing is cool! You’ve been in love with me practically this whole time and you didn’t say _shit_! We could’ve been banging! I’ve been dreaming of your dick since Day One and then I went and fell in love with your dumb ass and I’ve been pining away like an asshole!”

This time Billy didn’t have any trouble reading the expression on Steve’s face. Steve looked like he’d just been handed the world.

“I thought you’d laugh at me,” Steve said, almost apologetic. “Or not believe me. Couldn’t take the chance.”

Billy moved to stand between Steve’s knees where he perched on the barstool and he gripped Steve’s denim-clad thighs. There was a nice shredded hole just above the knee on Steve’s right leg and Billy looked down at it fondly and rubbed circles into Steve’s skin with his thumb. “You were pissed at me and you still put granola bars in my goddamn backpack.”

Steve’s mouth turned up in a lopsided smile and he tugged on the front of Billy’s shirt, bringing him closer. “You always forget to eat,” he said. “And you don’t sleep enough and you work out too much and you smoke _way_ too much. You suck at taking care of yourself.”

Billy ducked his head and his lips brushed Steve’s. He nuzzled Steve’s nose with his own, which felt like a real chick move but he felt dizzy with love as Steve’s arms came up around him. 

“Good thing I got you then, Nurse Steve,” Billy murmured.

“Yeah, asshole. Good thing,” Steve said, and kissed the smirk off Billy’s face.


End file.
